


in the confines of fear.

by redhoods



Series: widofjord week 2019. [4]
Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: First Kiss, M/M, Widofjord Week, caleb calls in his favor, ikithon is involved, so many of them, soft, the most callbacks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-18
Updated: 2019-06-18
Packaged: 2020-05-14 09:51:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19270816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redhoods/pseuds/redhoods
Summary: Fingers pry the cup from his hand and set it to the side, so Fjord rolls his shoulders back and straightens, sensing an impending serious conversation. Caleb stays right there at him, toe to toe, even if he’s got to tip his head back just a bit to meet Fjord’s gaze. His jaw sets, determination in every line of him, “I’m calling in my favor.”The world tilts.Fjord drops his hands finally, curling his fingers around the work surface behind him. His throat works, suddenly dry, and he’ll blame it on his unfinished tea, “I -“ he stops, then breathes out, “Okay.”





	in the confines of fear.

**Author's Note:**

> i don’t know how to describe this fic really. but it’s an idea that’s been bouncing around my brain for ages so here we are. nobody dies, the ending is happy, and there are heaps of callbacks to old conversations.
> 
> for widofjord week day three - canon quote.
> 
> title is from the fear by ben howard.

“Do you trust me?”

Caleb corners him in the kitchens, stalking with some great purpose right at Fjord, where he’s sipping some tea that Caduceus says is supposed to help him sleep. Right now though, it looks like Caleb might need it more. He’s got dark circles under his eyes, which are bloodshot and a little wild. His hair is half in a tie and half out, wild around his face, only serving to make him look more unhinged.

Still beautiful though.

“Always,” Fjord replies with a blink, cup still hovering halfway to his mouth. He doesn’t feel an ounce of hesitation in himself and isn’t much surprised by that.

Fingers pry the cup from his hand and set it to the side, so Fjord rolls his shoulders back and straightens, sensing an impending serious conversation. Caleb stays right there at him, toe to toe, even if he’s got to tip his head back just a bit to meet Fjord’s gaze. His jaw sets, determination in every line of him, “I’m calling in my favor.”

The world tilts.

Fjord drops his hands finally, curling his fingers around the work surface behind him. His throat works, suddenly dry, and he’ll blame it on his unfinished tea, “I -“ he stops, then breathes out, “Okay.”

Caleb reels back a little, shocked, his expression like he’s been slapped, “Okay?” His tone is incredulous.

Nodding, Fjord shifts his jaw, grinding his back teeth a little, “I told you I’d return the favor one day and I intend to stand by that,” he settles on eventually, “I only need to know what you want me to know, otherwise I’m all yours.”

There’s a quiet moment where he thinks Caleb is going to flee, that hunted look back in his gaze. It’s been making an appearance more and more often as of late, as Ikithon closes in on them.

Instead though, Caleb nods, just once, “Gut, that is... gut,” he says it like it’s not good at all and Fjord digs his claws into the wood under his hands, so he doesn’t reach out when the wizard steps back. The distance between them feels like a yawning chasm, not two or three feet.

“What do you need me to do, Cay?”

It’s a testament to their closeness as of late, and maybe how close to the end of his rope Caleb is, that he sees the way his question fractures Caleb’s expression, devastation lightning quick across his face. He locks it down fast though and it might be his imagination, but Fjord thinks the wood in his hands creaks.

In place of the devastation is a barely there smile, “You’re a good man, Fjord,” Caleb says, and then presses on before Fjord has a chance to process, “Don’t let them follow me,” he adds.

Fjord frowns, confusion welling, “I might actually need a little more to go on. I’m not as smart as you are.”

“That is bullshit,” Caleb says, quietly calm, the eye of the storm, “You are much smarter than you give yourself credit.”

Twisting his lips, Fjord tilts his head this way and that, “Maybe so, maybe I’m asking for clarification so I can make sure I do what you’re asking me properly,” he tries, thinking there isn’t a way that Caleb won’t see through him, but hoping Caleb will allow him this.

Caleb narrows his eyes, but his shoulders dip, “In the morning, when the others wake up, don’t let them give chase.”

It settles on Fjord’s shoulders then and he blows out heavily through bared teeth.

“I am sorry to burden you with this, mein freund,” Caleb says quietly, backing away slowly from Fjord, each step like it’s taking more and more out of him.

Fjord forces his fingers to release and knuckles at his mouth, scratches his jaw, “I won’t try to stop you,” he says quietly, “But...” he swallows and holds out a hand, scarred palm up, “Give me your hand.”

That makes Caleb pause, one foot hovering in the air, and he’s assessing now, trying to see if Fjord is lying to him, but he puts the foot forward instead. He only comes close enough to reach his hand out and place his scar against Fjord’s, “Fjord.”

Humming, Fjord closes his fingers around Caleb’s hand, squeezing carefully, “I’m not going to stop you,” he says again, meeting Caleb’s gaze, “And I won’t let them try to follow,” he adds, because that’s also important. He draws in a breath, “But remember, we’re your family now. You have people that care about you, that are willing to do anything for you.”

Caleb’s face crumples into quiet anguish, “You shouldn’t.”

“Not your decision,” Fjord shoots back immediately and squeezes his hand, “I won’t be able to stop them for forever.”

It’s of his own volition that Caleb moves forward, “I just need time.”

Fjord snorts softly, “Don’t we all.”

“There is one more thing I’d like to ask of you,” Caleb says, voice so quiet.

“Anything,” says Fjord.

Caleb drops his gaze and pulls back, “No, no, I shouldn’t. I am already asking too much. I will not take more than you are willing to give.”

Fjord tugs him back in, “For someone so smart, you’re being particularly stupid right now,” he says gently, to see the aggrieved wrinkle between Caleb’s brow. Then, ducks his head to catch Caleb’s eye, “What part of anything aren’t you understanding, Widogast?”

And Caleb kisses him.

It’s just a quick, chaste mashing of lips, not something that Fjord has a chance to respond to before Caleb is wrenching away.

“I’m sorry,” Caleb says, then repeats himself over and over and over again as he backs away, before turning to flee.

Fjord stays rooted to the spot for some time after that.

———

There’s a terrible crick in his neck when Fjord wakes up, tipped over with his face mashed against the arm of the couch. He doesn’t remember falling asleep, though he remembers purposefully not returning to the cramped room he and Caduceus were sharing in this makeshift little hidey hole of a house.

When he blinks, there’s a crossbow aimed at his nose, only centimeters away from his face. Fjord carefully doesn’t move, his eyes following the length of the weapon until he meets Nott’s large yellow eyes.

“Oh good, you’re awake,” she says with false cheer.

“Nott, I really don’t think—“ 

Nott hisses in the direction Caduceus’s voice comes from.

“Where is Caleb?” Nott demands him then, jiggling her crossbow for emphasis of its presence, like the weapon wasn’t taking up most of Fjord’s line of vision.

He moves very slowly, pushing himself until he’s sitting. Everyone’s in the living room, all of them crushed practically shoulder to shoulder in the space. They’re all staring at him, jaws set, so he raises his hands in front of his chest, “I don’t know.”

They all glance around at each other.

Beau glares at him finally, “You’re right next to the fucking door and you’re telling me you didn’t notice him leave?”

Lifting his eyebrows, he leaves his hands up, palms out, “I didn’t hear all of you in here, apparently deciding I’d been the one to what? To kick Caleb out? Is that what you all think of me?”

The only one that doesn’t flinch away guiltily is Nott, who turns to Jester, “Do it!”

“Nott, I don’t think—“ Jester starts, worrying her lower lip, waffling on her feet, “I think he’s telling the truth.”

Nott swings the crossbow in Jester’s directions and there’s several shouts.

Fjord carefully does not move.

Jester takes her symbol of the Traveler in her hand, “I’m very sorry, Fjord,” she says, at least looking tired. He doesn’t glance away from her, making her face him if she’s really going to do this. 

And she does.

He feels the magic in his head, trying to push in, and he tries to resist it, because this is supposed to be his family. These people are supposed to trust him and it fucking hurts that they don’t.

The magic takes root, because he’s not strong enough compared to Jester or any of the rest of him and he glares.

“I don’t fucking know where Caleb is and fuck all of you for thinking I would do anything to hurt him or send him away,” he spits, rage welling in his chest, so he lets it spill out, “Fuck you for thinking that I wouldn’t worry about him just as much, that I wouldn’t die to keep him safe. That I love him any less.”

Then he grinds his teeth and refuses to say anything else.

He can do this much for Caleb, keep their attention on him for however long he can.

“Drop the fucking spell, Jester,” Beau snaps suddenly.

Jester does, eyes bright and glassy, lower lip wobbling, “I’m sorry,” she says, very young.

Fjord looks away from her, to meet Nott’s gaze now, head long, his jaw still clenched shut. Then realizes she’s crying, her shoulders shaking.

“I’m sorry,” she wails suddenly and flings herself at him, the crossbow going flying. She slams into him, curling against his chest, “I’m sorry I didn’t really think you’d — Caleb would be so mad if he knew I’d — I’m just worried that he’s going to do something really stupid —“

“Nott! Breathe!” Beau snaps and then crowds in on them on the couch, shoving herself down next to Fjord. The couch is barely big enough for the three of them.

Fjord forces himself to relax and tentatively wraps his arms around her, just as Jester slams into Beau’s lap and tries to crush he and Nott into one person with the force of her hug. He wheezes a little, huffing out a gasp when she releases. “It’s fine,” he says after a minute, “No, it’s not fine, but I get it.”

Jester’s lower lip wobbles a little, but Beau is nodding at him.

“Caleb is doing something stupid,” he adds quieter.

Nott straightens up, actually standing on his thighs now, cupping his cheeks in both of her hands, “He’s going to Ikithon, isn’t he?” He nods and she snarls, “Stupid stupid stupid boy! Why didn’t you stop him?”

Fjord swallows and averts his gaze, “I owed him a favor.”

“What was the favor?” Beau asks, curiosity and concern waging war over her features.

“Tell me he didn’t expect us not to come after him,” Yasha interjects suddenly, unintentionally looming when she comes closer.

Shaking his head, Fjord gently nudges Nott sideways, until she sinks to sit on the arm of the couch next to him, “I dunno what he was expecting or what he thinks is going to happen. He wanted me to make sure you guys didn’t follow, didn’t give chase,” he picks his words carefully, trying to recall Caleb’s phrasing, “He said he just needed some time.”

“So he had a plan?” Caduceus asks, shoulders suddenly releasing tension.

Beau exhales noisily next to him and Fjord watches her press her forehead to Jester’s shoulder while she collects herself. “He knows that Ikithon won’t just let him walk away from us. He’ll have to prove himself, he’ll have to—“

“Oh no,” Nott says suddenly.

“Oh Caleb,” Jester hiccups and there are tears on her cheeks.

———

The next few days pass in miserable drags of silence. They all cling tightly to one another in Caleb’s absence, Fjord finds himself not spending a single night alone any longer. Wakes up one morning to Nott curled up at the foot of his bed, comes in for bed the next night and Jester and Beau have shoved the two beds in the room together and force him between them for the night.

On the third night, they drag all the mattresses into the living room and crowd together in a massive tangle of limbs, all six of them squished in like they’re under Caleb’s bubble.

None of them want to, but they make plans to move on.

This house is too small, supplies are running thing, and they’re too close to the small farming village if the fight comes to them.

They leave the house in stages, those who can disguise themselves do.

It doesn’t matter.

They make it a few miles out of town as far as Fjord can judge, before Caduceus slows them up, “There’s a blockade ahead,” he says, far calmer than Fjord feels.

Beau bounces on the balls of her feet next to him and he tries to relish in the normalcy of her pre fight warm up, “Is it them?” She asks, her voice coming out a quiet rasp of nerves. He bumps their shoulders and she gives him a tight lipped smile.

“Think so,” Caduceus answers.

None of them slow.

There’s a man standing in the middle of the road, three figures evenly spaced behind him.

Next to him, Beau practically hisses and he takes that to mean it is Ikithon.

The man, Ikithon, spreads his arms wide, exuding smarmy confidence that makes Fjord itch to break his nose, “You must be the Mighty Nein!” He calls, as if there’s an audience around them to hear, not rolling empty fields of grass.

“You’re damn right we are!” Beau practically rolls with rage and, out of the corner of his eye, Fjord sees Yasha reaching for her sword.

Nott’s nowhere to be seen.

Ikithon laughs, the sound grating on every one of Fjord’s nerve endings, “I can see why you like them,” he says, over his shoulders, “They’ve got spirit.”

The typical bit about breaking it goes unsaid, but not unheard.

Fjord’s breath catches thick in his throat as Ikithon steps to the side, his arms falling back to his sides, and Fjord could not give less of a damn about the man, gaze focused on the wizard behind him.

Caleb does not look like Caleb.

This is Bren they’re looking at.

His hair is cut short, cropped close to his scalp, and his face is clean shaven, not a trace of scruff. There’s nothing smudged on his cheeks, not dirt or ink, and his old coat is gone, replaced by fancy robes with gold embroidery. 

And his face is completely blank.

“Tear them down, Bren,” Ikithon says, not even glancing in Caleb’s direction.

Behind him, Jester hiccups.

Caleb takes several steps forward, even passed Ikithon, who seems not to be bothered, so assured of himself. His hand raises and Fjord steps forward, interjecting himself between Caleb and the others, meeting his gaze headlong.

“I’m looking at you, Widogast,” he says, ignoring everyone else around them.

There’s no pause in Caleb, whose head tilts, like he’s considering, but there’s the shadow of a grin there, “All about calculated risks, aren’t you?” He asks and then turns immediately on his heel and releases the fireball in the direction of Ikithon and his other two shadows.

In the ensuing chaos, Caleb immediately steps closer to him, shoulder to shoulder, “Thank you, Fjord.”

“Anytime.”

———

Relief is a tangible feeling at the end of the fight. One of Fjord’s eyes is caked with blood steadily streaming from a gash along his forehead and his right shoulder doesn’t seem to actually be in the socket anymore, but he doesn’t care.

They’re all still alive, even if it’s by the skin of their teeth.

Ikithon had underestimated them and it had cost him his life.

Fjord thumps down into the dirt next to Caleb, who is wrapping bandages around his burnt forearm. Jester and Caduceus are both tapped for the day, they’ll have to be careful when they hobble on to their next destination. “How you fairing, Caleb?”

There’s a soft exhale from the wizard next to him, “Beauregard threatened to castrate me if I ever pulled a stunt like this again,” he says with careful disdain that they both know is a front now.

“Good,” Fjord says and tries to puff his chest out, “saves me from having to do it.”

Caleb laughs then, a little hysterical wheezing sound, but it’s still a laugh. When the sound doesn’t stop, Fjord slides his good arm around Caleb’s back and pulls him in, cradling Caleb against him and murmuring nonsense into his hair.

The sounds change and Fjord’s heart aches, because the laughter turns to sobbing and there’s nothing he can do but sit here and rub Caleb’s back.

Nott comes over shortly and interjects herself, curling into Caleb’s lap, even though Caleb’s almost half in Fjord’s lap. She starts mumbling, getting a little louder as she goes, and Fjord realizes she’s singing, something that sort of sounds like it might be a lullaby in another language.

It breaks the dam and all the others crowd in close, the six of them forming a barrier around Caleb, squishing in to offer comfort by their sheer presence, while Caleb shakes apart into Fjord’s chest.

———

They hobble back to the town, Caleb getting bounced around between all of them for chiding and reminders that they all give a damn. Fjord swells with emotion as he watches it happen from the back, making sure that no one falls too far behind.

Nott falls back to join him at one point, squinting at his injured arm and rotating around to his other side. He’s not expecting it, but she takes his other hand, not squeezing, not threatening, just holding.

He doesn’t know what to do with himself.

They walk like that for a while, watching the others, namely watching Caleb walk with Yasha. Neither of them appear to be saying anything, just walking close together and existing.

“You’re in love with him, aren’t you?” Nott asks, when the town is coming into view.

Fjord scrunches his nose, is suddenly glad she’s got his hand so he can’t pick at his tusks. Exhaling, he shrugs his good arm, “That obvious?” He asks, which he’s sure is answer enough.

She makes a strange sound, an ‘eeeehhh’, like she’s not sure of the answer, “Don’t think so,” she says carefully, “I think the only ones of us that might’ve realized were me and Yasha.” Which makes no sense. Nott and Yasha are a lot like him, not so great at reading people.

“How so?” He asks, glancing down at her, but she’s watching Caleb as he crosses the group to Jester, subjecting himself to another hug. Even as far back as they are, Fjord can hear the pops of Caleb’s spine.

The points of Nott’s own claws press briefly into his skin and he’s not even sure she’s aware of it, “You let him go,” she says, eventually.

Oh, Fjord thinks, and says it out loud as well.

She laughs, a strange cackling that draws an eyebrow raise from Beau ahead of them, but no one else. “Oh, maaaan, you have it so bad,” she cackles more. Caleb looks back at them and she gives him a thumbs up, though he still looks between the two of them a few more times before turning and joining Caduceus.

“I’d threaten you,” she goes on, “but I think you’d do worse to yourself than I ever could if you hurt him.”

Then she releases him and skips off ahead to be at Caleb’s side.

There’s no point in calling after her, they both know she’s right.

———

When they get back to the house, Yasha immediately starts to the first room, “I’ll get the mattresses.”

No one protests and Jester skips off to help her.

Caleb sidles up to him, watching Beau shove the living room furniture back out of the way, like they hadn’t all put it back to rights that very morning. Was is still the same day? It didn’t seem like it. “Can we talk?”

Fjord considers putting it off, but nods instead, “Sure.”

They duck into one of the rooms, the two beds already devoid of their mattresses.

Fjord crowds him immediately, wrapping his good arm around Caleb’s back and hauling him, “Gods dammit, Caleb,” he croaks out into Caleb’s short hair. He already misses the wild curls. “I didn’t think I was going to see you again.”

Caleb wraps around him, fingers digging into Fjord’s back, his nose is pressed against Fjord’s neck and he says nothing for a while, despite having been the one to ask to talk.

It takes him a while to pull himself together, to ease back from Caleb enough to see the wizard’s face, “Sorry, sorry, you wanted to talk, didn’t you?” He brings his good hand up and swipes it over his eyes, before returning it to Caleb’s side.

“Oh, ja, I did,” Caleb sounds a little surprised to be reminded of the fact, that somehow his ever overworking mind let something slip through the cracks.

Fjord waits him out.

Caleb takes a breath and carefully says, “I’m sorry for kissing you,” and lifts his eyes, immediately adding, “No, no, not like that!” Fjord isn’t sure what his face is doing to make Caleb backtrack like that, but he wants to hide, good shoulder hunching up.

“Oh, shiebe, this is not how I wanted this to go,” Caleb huffs and brings both his hands up, cupping Fjord’s face, drawing his gaze. “I do not regret kissing you, liebling, do not think that. I regret how I went about it and I regret running after, but I do not regret kissing you one single bit.”

Fjord opens his mouth to say something, but Caleb shushes him with a finger to his lips, his eyes crinkling at the corners when Fjord rubs his tusk over the offending digit.

“You are cute,” Caleb says, quietly fond and Fjord knows his face must be ruddy with how hard he’s blushing. Then more seriously, he adds, “I would like to kiss you again. Many more times, in fact, but I’d like to be sure that that’s something you also want.”

Reaching up, Fjord cups Caleb’s hand and moves it from his lips to his own cheek, “I, uh, can’t think of much of anything I’d like more than that, darlin’.”

Caleb blushes at the endearment, a bright pink that spreads from the apples of his cheeks, all the way down his now clean shaven face. It takes years off of him and Fjord is glad to get to see this, even if in a few more days, Caleb’s scruff will undoubtedly be back.

And then Caleb kisses him.

This time Fjord is ready for it, ready for him, surging against Caleb and wishing that he’d let someone set his other arm before they did this.

It’s still not great, a little too desperate, too frantic, and it’s still the best damn kiss he’s ever had.

Caleb eases back with a shaky breath, blush spilling down his neck now, “That was...” he starts and breaks into a shaky laugh.

Fjord tucks his face against Caleb’s throat and breathes him in, his own shoulders shaking with silent laughter. It’s relief crashing over him in thick waves. Caleb’s alive, he’s alive, their family is alive.

“Oh for fuck’s sake, they’ve both gone nuts,” Beau says suddenly and Fjord looks up to meet the dawning horror on Caleb’s face.

Caleb pulls away and Fjord lets him, pressing his knuckles to his own mouth to try and tamp down his giddy smile, even as Caleb starts snarking at Beau about eavesdropping, the two of them bickering their way back into the living room.

Nott’s standing there in the open doorway and he jerks in place in surprise, while she rolls her eyes at him.

“What?” 

“You look happy,” she says, her lip curling, “It’s gross.”

He blinks at her, then grins as he approaches her, enjoying the way she backs up, eyeing him with disdain but not distrust, “You give a shit.”

She opens her mouth, then closes it slowly, then opens it again, “If Caleb has decided that you’re not a bastard man, then I trust his judgment. He’s very smart, you know.” Then quieter she adds, “When he’s not being a total dumbass.”

“I do know,” he agrees, lifting his gaze to find Caleb, still bickering with Beau.

Nott makes a fake retching sound, “I can’t believe I have to see this with my own two eyes,” she gripes and then makes a running leap into the mattresses all pushed together on the floor.

Fjord laughs quietly, eyes already turning back to Caleb.

Who’s looking back at him.

**Author's Note:**

> i had trouble ending this one, that feels obvious.
> 
> find me on tumblr and twitter.


End file.
